He has been to enough therapy to know that when he is bummed out that is exactly when he thinks of her the most. She is the symbol of what he wanted �...� passion, excitement, energy, a challenge, a connection of mind and body. He nods his head when they say, ‘it wasn’t her she wanted, she just represented all of it.’ Given enough time and access it would have happened with any woman. This. Woman. Means. Nothing. He promises to come back to reality, get his head screwed on straight again, suck it. Every lie masks itself as the truth and the truth hides amongst words whispered in the heat of passion. I reveled in his scent, the smooth warmth of his skin, the softness of his hair, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. At one time, not so long ago, we had been the best of friends and the greatest of loves. We toyed with a future that might have been. Time and circumstance had turned all the possibilities into the impossible. This was the first time I had seen him in months. The arms. More

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